


Drusilla's Nights

by vinniebatman



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, Madness, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinniebatman/pseuds/vinniebatman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into the madness of Drusilla.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I so totally own these shows. Bow Down! *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.*

Angelus had broken Drusilla, hurting her until that fragile mind shattered like stained glass. He had chosen his childe based on her abilities, but his pursuit had created a monstrous child. Inside her broken mind, the cruel need of her demon found a home. Her mind was like a vampire’s, viewing life not through sin and grace and right and wrong, but with need and want. Drusilla feasted with the avarice of a hungry child, ignorant of the mess she often made. She combined the sweet innocence of a human child with the murderous hunger of a vampire childe. And like a human child, Drusilla played games while eating.

Sometimes, Drusilla liked to chew her dinner, not drink it. Carefully, she would select the desired muscle and rip it from her victim, humming along gaily with their screams. Tearing the muscle into bite-sized pieces, she would chew on it like an orange slice, spitting out the fibrous tissue once the juice was gone. For Drusilla, there was something comforting in chewing, in tearing the tissue with her teeth. But her favorite game was raindrops.

At first Angelus hadn’t been sure as to why his dark childe wanted the chains and pulleys installed in the basement. Giggling, Drusilla had kept her secret, only saying that it was for a game. Raindrops was a game Drusilla thought of while dancing in a rainstorm and talking to the stars. The hardest part of the game was tying her playmate to the ceiling so they lay flat above her.

Once the victims were stretched above her, Drusilla would take the long, pearl-handled knife her daddy gave her. Carefully, she would choose the right areas- away from arteries, but near good veins. Then she would drive the blade into the torso and legs repeatedly, opening tiny torrents of blood. As the blood dripped down, Drusilla spun beneath the exsanguinating body, dancing in the red rain, tasting the raindrops as the fell from the living sky.


	2. Chapter 2

_Eric had stumbled out of the club. It was after midnight, but that was all he’d known of the time. Pausing, he’d raised the pilfered bottle to his lips before continuing his crooked path down the sidewalk._   
  
Her fingers were cold like ice, trailing down his cheek and tracing stars on his chest.  
  
 _His world was limited to a two yard radius by the stereotypical San Francisco fog. Brushing the dark hair from his eyes, he’d focused on the twisting sidewalk. As he’d rested against a brick wall, a woman had emerged from the shadows and fog, her shoes silent on the slick cobblestones, the sounds of city life muffled by the blanket of fog._  
  
A broken building- she’d brought him to a broken building where tired timber sighed and shattered windows cried. The full moon filtered in through the roof and lit the floor where she danced, her shoes tapping on the cement to a rhythm he couldn’t hear.  
  
 _Dressed in dark blue velvet gown, her wide eyes shined dark against the pale porcelain of her skin, her angelic face framed by thick, dark curls.  
  
Smiling, she stopped before him, cocking her head to the side.   
  
“Are you sick, little one?” Her silken voice floated through the air and down his spine._  
  
Groaning, Eric struggled to lift his head. He watched her spin in the moonlight, a doll clutched in her hands.  
  
 _“Do you need help, little lamb?” she’d asked with a sweet smile. Eric had tried to say no but his body had chosen to rebel and collapsed instead. She rushed over in a flurry of velvet, kneeling over him._  
  
“Poor lamb,” she cooed. “If Daddy were here he’d know what to do, but he doesn’t sing anymore. He’s trapped with that wicked soul.”  
  
Her wide eyes had studied him, her brow knit in concentration. Suddenly, a brilliant smile came to her face. “I know! We’ll have a tea party! Just you, me and Miss Edith.”  
  
“Are you sleeping little lamb?” The voice jerked Eric awake. He groaned from the ache in his arms, chained to the wall above his head. “If you sleep you miss everything.”  
  
“Please, I need to go home,” he whimpered.   
  
“Oh no, you have to stay,” she whispered. “I haven’t heard you sing yet.”  
  
Eric tried to understand the words but they mixed with the alcohol and hid inside his mind. As he watched her, her eyes started to glow yellow. He started screaming when her face contorted and ridges appeared on her face- along with fangs in her mouth.  
  
“You sing so pretty,” she laughed as he screamed. Pulling a dagger from the folds of her dress, she cut the shirt from his body, nicking his skin in several places.  
  
“Please,” Eric begged, tears surging from his eyes. “Please let me go.”   
  
Leaning forward, she licked the skin from the tiny cuts on his shoulders and chest. Again, she raised the blade as she made a long, shallow incision down the center of his torso. As the blood rose, a smile curved her lips. “It’s so pretty,” she giggled.  
  
Purring contentedly, she pressed her lips to his throat. She bit and drank, taking only a few mouthfuls, moaning.  
  
“You’re so yummy, little lamb. I wish I hadn’t already eaten,” she pouted, her lips a shiny, unnatural red. He sobbed, his heart pounding as his brain scattered, trying to comprehend his situation and terrified by what he understood. The vampire stepped away from him, red staining her fangs.   
  
Narrowing her eyes, she studied his chest as though it were a canvas. Her eyes brightened as she settled on course of action. Smiling, she raised the crimson blade again. Starting at the center cut, she started carving out a geometric pattern. Eric screamed, salty tears dripping down his face and onto his torn skin. She hummed along with his cries as blood ran down the knife and over her white hands. Leaning down, she dragged her cold tongue over the cuts, moaning again.  
  
“You taste like heaven, little lamb.” She turned to the doll, which was propped against a broken beam. “Should we keep him, Miss Edith? The little lamb would be a wonderful pet.”  
  
Eric watched at the woman listened to the old doll. His heart froze when he saw her turn back towards him and smile.  
  
“Yes, that’s right Miss Edith. We’ll start a new family.”


End file.
